


Cherry's Matchmaking Service #91-95

by HockeyMatchmaking



Series: Cherry's Matchmaking Service [19]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Cherry's Matchmaking Service, M/M, Rare Pairings, Short Stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-15
Updated: 2012-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-12 19:29:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HockeyMatchmaking/pseuds/HockeyMatchmaking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The nineteenth set of five stories in the Cherry's Matchmaking Service (CMS) series.<br/>#91: "Why did he say that? I'm a great forward!" The skinny man wailed.<br/>#92: “Uh, are you alright sir?” the ticket booth lady asked and Tokarski nodded.<br/>#93: “I think I should call myself Dr. Reimer…” The Toronto goalie smiled.<br/>#94: “Alright, but it’s your turn to do the ‘grown-up, respectable, no-playing-around-in-the-showers’ speech.”<br/>#95: “How are you planning to get it up?” The shorter man asked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry's Matchmaking Service #91-95

**Author's Note:**

> These are some of the very first Hockey RPF stories I wrote, back in 2011-12, so don't chirp me too hard for grammar, or spelling. I thought I'd post them up so you can see the progression of my writing style.

CMS 91

Alexander Burrows smiled as a keycard opened the door and a wafted of air struck him. "Burrows?" Mason Raymond slurred, stepping into the hotel room, a frown lighting his pretty face.

Burrows leapt to his feet and stroked Raymond's face as the upset, drunk, man wailed and cried. "Why did he say that? I'm a great forward!" The skinny man wailed as Burrows soothed him with a light embrace. "Come on May-Ray, you know you're a great player." Burrows tried to reason with the wasted man.

Raymond just let out an undefinable noise of sadness as Burrows sighed as the strong winger remembered the only way to shut up the tiny man. The winger sighed and drew the pathetically sobbing centre to the bed.

As Burrows began to undress the drunk centre, Raymond slowly became happier and finally grinned at the winger. Burrows chuckled at the emotion shift in his roomie. Raymond in response purred as Burrows licked his ear. "Finally perked up, hmm?"  
  
CMS 92

Dustin Tokarski smiled as he watched Aleksandr Burmistrov gracefully leap out of the way of a check. As Burmistrov scored a goal, Tokarski leapt out of his seat in the stands with the rest of the crowd as they cheered for Winnipeg. Tokarski had a few off days from being a goalie, and had decided to spend them with Aleksandr. The person sitting next to Tokarski booed Aleksandr as the forward happily high fived his teammates.

Tokarski spun on the middle-aged man sitting beside him and gave him a death glare, as the oblivious man cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. “Boo! You suck, stupid Russian.”

Tokarski stood and looked at the man in a menacing way. “Take that back.” The goalie whispered, enraged. Tokarski’s blood was boiling in his veins as the man spat off to the side in a sign of disrespect.  “You’re a bitter old man without any respect.” The goalie growled and the man smirked, so Tokarski’s anger boiled over promptly. The goalie threw a punch; he was quite satisfied when the sound of the man’s nose breaking echoed in the air.

The man stood, furious and the pair fought, a few good punches being exchanged before the security guards ran up and threw them out. Tokarski sat outside in the frigid air for a moment as he devised a plan to get back in. His breath formed clouds in the air as he waited, his back to the muttering man he’d fought with.

Suddenly the goalie was shoved over, and a man wearing dark clothing held him down as the other man from the stadium pounded him, wild blows glancing off his head and upper body. Minutes later the pair ran off and Tokarski just lay there for a minute or two longer, shaking in fear.

The goalie slowly got up, his body aching as he tried to make himself feel better, his whole body shook with fear and cold as he slowly, stiffly walked into the lobby of the arena. It was no more pain than he’d felt before from a game, but fear made his joints stiffen. Tokarski cleared his throat at the ticket booth and mumbled, not looking up at the person who walked over. “Um…c-can I stand in here for a bit? Um…” The goalie just looked at his feet as the woman frowned.

“Uh, are you alright sir?” the ticket booth lady asked and Tokarski nodded, quickly moving past her without a glance back. Tokarski hurried as fast as he could past the crowds of leaving people, the goalie was trying to get to the Winnipeg dressing room.

Tokarski slowly rapped on the door of the dressing room and a laughing Andrew Ladd opened the door and did a double take at the sorry sight of Dustin Tokarski. “Hold on a moment man, be back.” The captain said quickly to whomever he was talking to, worry for the younger man evident on his face. Ladd stepped out and softly closed the door.

The Jets captain frowned at Tokarski. “You alright?” Ladd asked quietly and the goalie slowly shook his head, pressing his lips together to stop himself from making noise. Ladd’s frown deepened. “Who---” Ladd started, but Aleksandr took that moment to peek his head out the door and see what was going on. “Fuck, Dustin!” Burmistrov hurried out, worry etching deep lines into his face.

Burmistrov was oblivious to his captain as he touched Tokarski’s face and worriedly hugged the scared other man. Tokarski’s arm’s slowly rose to encircle Burmistrov as his face melted from the look of shock it had worn to a look of sadness. Ladd quietly slipped back into the dressing room as he saw the distress on Tokarski’s face.

Dustin and Aleksandr just quietly stood there for a moment, enjoying the scent of each other and the warmth. “Burmi? I-I-I…” Tokarski stuttered and Aleksandr just held him close. 

“You wanna tell me about it, Toka?” The centre inquired softly and the goaltender nodded. “Uh, uh…C-can we go home?” Tokarski said, just as quietly and Aleksandr said, “Yes, of course. I just have to grab my things, would you rather stay out here, or come in to the dressing room?” Aleksandr asked and when Tokarski didn’t answer, the forward slowly led the goaltender into the loud, rambunctious dressing room.

Everyone seemed to go silent as they saw the scared, beat up Tokarski being lead into the room. The Winnipeg forward quickly grabbed his things and the pair left. Once they got back to Burmistrov’s apartment, Tokarski collapsed on the bed.  “Burmi…” Tokarski said softly and Aleksandr hurried over to lie down beside him. “Comfort me.” The goalie quietly demanded and the Jets player smiled, putting an arm around the goalie.

“Toka, you know you should go to the hospital, right?” The younger man asked and Tokarski frowned. “I-I don’t want to go there.” The older player replied quietly and Burmistrov shrugged, drawing him even closer. “Oh, Dustin…” The Winnipeg player sighed, holding the other man close. “Alek, I-I just wanna lay here, ‘kay?” Tokarski mumbled and Burmistrov nodded, feeling bad for the frightened man.

“You can lay here as long as you’d like.” Aleksandr whispered, holding the other man close.  
  
CMS 93 GNOC #6

“Reimer? How come Tokarski brought his boyfriend? The non-goalie.” Bernier prompted, frowning at the Maple Leafs’ goalie. Reimer shrugged and smiled, placating Bernier with a kiss. “Manh, needed him I suppose.” Reimer laughed at his own innuendo as the pair watched Dustin Tokarski slowly sit down across from them, his boyfriend a dark shadow behind him.

“So, Tokarski, why did you decide to attend GNOC?” The Torontonian goalie became abruptly serious and Dustin shook his head, his dark shadow opened his mouth to speak. Aleksandr Burmistrov, the only one there who was not a goalie, smiled faintly at the pair. “Toka recently was very frightened, he has been having some difficulty facing people, and he’s admitted he may quit the sport altogether. He may improve if you help him, he is willing to overcome his fears, he just doesn’t know how.” The Winnipeg forward said quietly and Reimer frowned at the young goalie beside him.

Tokarski glanced away as Reimer’s gaze fell upon him and the Torontonian goalie felt bad. Burmistrov stroked Tokarski’s hair as the goalie leaned on him for support. “All right, you two follow me, Bernier? You wanna come?” The Maple Leaf asked and Bernier grumbled something along the lines of, “Well, sure I wanna come, just not with them watching me.” But followed along anyway.

Reimer lead the pair to a back room of the bar where few people ever went. “So, would you care to explain what lead to this fear?” Reimer asked after they were situated. Burmistrov cleared his throat, but Tokarski motion for him to be quiet and slowly told his tale. When the young goalie was done, Reimer shook his head in amazement. “Yeah man, I can understand, us goalies, we aren’t used to being dominated, controlled. You need to pull yourself out of your funk though, cause your Burmistrov needs you.” The Maple Leaf nodded and the Russian forward blushed pink.

Tokarski leaned forward and smiled a little. “I suppose, it just is hard to forget the feeling.” Tokarski shook his head and Bernier sighed. Reimer nodded nostalgically, “Why yes, in fact, I remember”—Bernier muttered, “Here we go again.”—“the first time I felt that feeling of being controlled, and it was hard, but I pulled through and bore it…and so will you.” The Maple Leaf finished his inspirational speech and Bernier chuckled at the unintentional innuendo.

“I was definitely hard.” Bernier chuckled again and Reimer pinched his leg. Tokarski smiled a full smile and Burmistrov leaned his head in on the young goalie. “Thank you.” The young pair chorused and Reimer nodded, Bernier on their way out whispered to the pair before they left about a ‘gift’ for Reimer.

As Bernier returned Reimer smiled. “I think I should call myself Dr. Reimer…” The Toronto goalie smiled as Bernier rolled his eyes. “More like psychologist.” The Kings goalie shrugged. “Or a crazy man who likes to play with people.”

Reimer licked his lips and waggled his eyebrows. “I’d sure like to play with you.”  
  
CMS 94

Ben Scrivens’ hair was wet with sweat from his vigorous activity and he panted as Joey Crabb grunted and thrust forward. Scrivens felt extremely aware of Crabb as Crabb moved out and away.  “Scriv? You gonna stop day dreaming and goaltend?” Schenn chuckled at the goalie who glanced up, his eyes wide with guilt. “Uh… yeah.” Scrivens laughed nervously as he watched Crabb face-off out of the corner of his eye and sighed.

After the game Scrivens smiled and high-fived every teammate until Crabb came around, Crabb smiled suavely and whispered in Scrivens’ ear with a warm hug. “Meet you in the locker rooms.” Crabb smiled as he sauntered off the ice, leaving Scrivens shivering.

As Scrivens slowly removed his equipment he became aware of Crabb breathing down his neck. “Yes?” Scrivens inquired, spinning slowly, his pants half off. Crabb grinned and slowly kissed the goaltender. They paused after a moment and panted. “Just curious, what were you imagining earlier?” Crabb inquired and Scrivens blushed.

“Uh, nothing.” Scrivens teased and Crabb smiled, slowly brushing back the sweaty hair from Scrivens’ forehead. “J-Joey…” Scrivens murmured as Crabb pulled their bodies tight together and whispered in the young goalie’s ear. “The showers, five minutes.” Then the forward slowly waltzed off, a slight twitch in his step as he smiled to himself.

Scrivens panted for a moment longer before his excitement got the better of him and he hurried after Crabb. “Scriv…oh never mind.” Phaneuf shouted after the young goalie, but Scrivens was so focused on getting to the shower fast he didn’t even hear Phaneuf.

The team captain took a step after them then shook his head and turned around to see Luke Schenn standing with his hands in his pockets. “Best wait till they’re done…Let’m have a little fun, eh?” The d-man grinned as his captain growled mockingly at him. “Alright, but it’s your turn to do the ‘grown-up, respectable, no-playing-around-in-the-showers’ speech.” Phaneuf smiled and his face lightened for a moment as Schenn raised his eyebrows.

“Really? My turn? Isn’t it some else’s turn for once?” The d-man inquired as his captain shook his head. “But I have a date with Crosby!” Phaneuf shook his head again, still smiling and the reluctant d-man pulled out his phone with a sigh. “Oh, and tell Crosby to come in here and wait, he’ll wanna see this.” The Maple Leafs’ captain’s grin widened as Schenn relayed the message.

Only a moment later, Crosby burst into the quiet dressing room. “What’d I miss?” He inquired panting as Schenn gave him a look of disbelief. “No one’s that fast.” The d-man sighed and shook his head again as Crosby frowned and pulled out his smart phone, quickly scrolling through the apps.

“Really Schenn? Cause I’ve got a record of us at 11:23.” Crosby proudly showed the other two a stopwatch app that was stopped at 11 minutes and 23 seconds. “Seriously man, that quick? What were you doing, trying out for the Olympics of speed fu–?” Phaneuf trailed off as Crabb reappeared, the captain added one last whistle and Schenn blushed a deep red; right as Crosby was about to add something else, Scrivens reappeared right behind Crabb, both were wet and happy.

“Woah, what are you all gathered for?” Scrivens inquired naively and Crabb murmured, “Looks like an intervention.” The goalie looked up confused and mumbled. “But we haven’t done anything wrong!” Phaneuf poked Schenn and Schenn mumbled to himself, “I hope I remember how Phany put it.”

The d-man cleared his throat and everyone went silent. “Alright guys, you’ve had your fun, we all know you have so don’t even try and deny it, but now the rules come down.” Schenn took a moment to blush at his choice of words before continuing, although it didn’t help that Crosby was laughing his ass off.

“There are five simple rules. One: nothing gets to the media about this stuff, your stuff or our stuff. Two: clean up after your selves. Three: don’t bring arguments or relationships on the ice. Four: leave your heart in the locker room, if you leave the crease to help Crabb, so help me I’ll wring both of your necks. Five: follow Phaneuf’s order’s to the letter regardless of what it is.”

Schenn paused for breath and spun to look at his captain. “Good enough, Phany?” the d-man inquired and Phaneuf nodded regally while Crosby kept laughing. “To the letter.” Phaneuf smiled and then frowned at the pair nervously clutching each other.

“Alright you two, it’s fine, go about your business.” The captain growled and Scrivens nervously raised his hand. “Yes?” Phaneuf asked and the young goalie stuttered out. “B-but is-is it okay? I mean, as long as we f-follow the rules?” The scared little goalie mumbled and Phaneuf sighed. “Yes. Go right ahead, be like them for all I care.” The captain motioned at Schenn and Crosby who were bent over a bench, kissing. Scrivens smiled and grabbed Crabb’s hand, happily running off to get some dry clothes on.

“I say; I’ve had just about Phaneuf, have you?” Schenn paused for breath and joked at his captain, who rolled his eyes.

Crosby moaned and replied. “I dunno about Phaneuf, but I’d like to have you.”

CMS 95

Benoît Pouliot smiled as his doorbell rang and as he pulled the door open, he fixed a fake frown to his face. “Kessel. I didn’t know who else to call, it won’t fit.” The Bruin grumbled and Phil Kessel smiled.

“What is it you’re trying to move?” The Maple Leaf inquired, putting his hands in his pockets as he ambled into the apartment. “A desk, I think it’s blocked somehow.” Pouliot mumbled, blushing a little as Kessel inspected the object of interest. Kessel lightly shoved the desk to test it. “Yup, seems stuck. Where are you going with it?” The Maple Leaf inquired to the older man. Pouliot shrugged as Kessel continued his inspection. “Upstairs is what would give me the most pleasure, but if not, then over here.” Pouliot motioned off to the side and Kessel raised his eyebrows, but chose not to comment.

“How are you planning to get it up?” The shorter man asked and Pouliot blushed as a very different mental image sidetracked his mind. “Er…uh…um…I-I was going to slowly caress…whoops…I mean, um…” Pouliot covered his face with his hand as he turned beet red.  Kessel laughed as the Bruin looked up, mortified. After a moment the taller man cleared his throat and the Maple Leaf stopped laughing. “I was going to push it up, I suppose.” Pouliot tried to be serious and ignore the mistake he’d made, but it was hard when he still felt extremely embarrassed.

“I think you’ll find it hard to get it to stay up that way.” Kessel murmured and Pouliot shot him a dirty look as Kessel pretended to look innocent. “Okay, now you’re just being annoying.” The Bruin grumbled as the Maple Leaf stuck out his tongue. “Oh, sure I’m sure it’s quite hard!” Kessel protested, grinning wickedly as he tried to push Pouliot’s buttons.

“One okay night is not…er… right…” The Bruin trailed off as he remembered they’d promised never to speak of it. “Okay night!?” Kessel inquired, taken aback. The Maple Leaf threw one hand over his heart in an overly theatrical way. “Back to the problem at hand, how am I going to get that giant thing up in that tiny space?” The shorter man chuckled at the thought as Pouliot pouted. “It isn’t that tiny a space! And your thing isn’t that giant.” The Bruin mumbled childishly as Kessel shoved at the desk again.

Kessel glanced back up the dark space. “Maybe this would work better if you undressed first.” The Maple Leaf commented a moment later as Pouliot wiped his forehead. After a moment of grunts, sweat and shoving, Kessel muttered. “I don’t think it’s gonna fit.” And Pouliot moaned. “Well try harder, I can’t stand this much longer.”

Kessel grinned wickedly. “Oh, it’ll fit, I’ll both get it up and make it fit in your long dark space.”


End file.
